Ready! Set! Go Gobble Gobble!

A few weeks into the school year I got a phone call from DJ's school. Apparently, every second nutrition break he was hanging out with a bunch of grade 3-6 students. DJ would race out of the Grade 1 door and head over to the far corner of the track. The grade 5 teacher called to tell me of DJ's fascination with this crowd.

Apparently, every day, DJ has been leaving his peers and joining in the grade3-6 track team practices.

The coach told me that he does not want to discourage DJr, but that he wanted to make sure my future track star understood he was too young to participate in the upcoming track team competition.

That afternoon, I sat DJ down and asked him about his track aspirations.

He was so cute. At first he thought he was in trouble. Then, I think I figured he was going to be banned from the team practices.

He smiled innocently at me and simply said he liked running with the big kids. It was good exercise and making him strong and healthy.

I congratulated him on his commitment and hard work. Then I gently explained how he could not compete with the school team...not yet.

He smiled. Nodded in agreement. Gave me a big hug and said, " That's ok mommy. I do not run for them. I run for me, cause I like it...and um, I run for you."

"You run for mommy?"

"Well mommy, I like it when you race and I want to race like you. But really, I just want to run with you when I get big and when I get better at running. Mommy, you go to your running class to learn to run - and I go to the running team to learn to run and maybe one day we can run together. I would really like that. Mommy, running makes you happy and running makes me happy and I like being happy with you!"

WOW. WHAM!

It really hit me how my transformation from being overweight, inactive and unhealthy has impacted my children.

My children see how I now take time for myself, and that physical exercise, working out, and taking care of myself makes me happy. Heck, it makes me happy, content, proud and at peace.

They see the benefits to leading an active lifestyle. Both the physical ones, and the emotional ones.

I am committed to keeping up with my new routines of working out, eating properly and taking care of myself. I am committed to being a positive role model for my three children.

So, this past weekend we all ran together. We entered the The Fall Colours Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trot race.

And everything about it made me happy.

Pre-race photo!

Ready....Set....Go!

And we are off!!!!

I love this photo of the boys! DJ's facial expression is priceless!

DJ loved the experience. He was awesome!

Click HERE for more photos of DJ giving it his all!

Anderson was excited...and then got a little whiny ...but soon got his second win and finished on a high note!

Click HERE for more photos of Anderson.

Little Madigan ran the ENTIRE 1km on her own. She was so determined. When people cheered for her she would stop and clap! It was hilarious! This photo so captures her race with me loudly cheering her on every step of the race!

Her photos from the race are great! I love the one with her running and a man running behind her with his screaming child! Priceless! Click HERE to see all Madigan`s professional shots!

Here we are after the race. The kids were super proud of their t-shirts, their bibs and especially their medals.

I was just proud of them...and very thankful.

Happy be-lated thanksgiving to all my fellow Canadian bloggers!

Let's get this GREAT party started!

On Sunday we had an anniversary celebration for my in laws, who were celebrating 40 years of marriage.

As the guests were arriving the kids were running around and greeting everyone.

DJ saw that Great Grandma (91) just arrived, with her boyfriend Herald (93).

All excited, DJ yelled out to everyone, " Great Grandma and Great Herald are here, let's get this party started!"

The two love birds (party animals) enjoying the BBQ.

Yep, in all our minds, they both are GREAT!

WW - Say cheese!

Today's Wordless Wednesday is actually also a Wordful Wednesday post.

While the photos I am going to post all speak for themselves - a young family, travelling across Canada on summer vacation - having the best time ever - they do not express my gratitude and pride.

So far, we have taken approximately 140 photos and I am in many of them. In fact, I volunteer to be in many and throw the camera at hubby so that he can capture a special moment. This is a HUGE shift in attitude. Before loosing my weight I shied away from the camera. So much so, that there are months, and many special occasions that you would be hard-pressed to find a photo of me.

People always ask me to post before and after photos - and the truth is that I have very few photos of me - especially in the last year or so. I was ashamed of how I looked. I protected myself by being the one taking all the photos. Never posing.

Now, as I upload our adventure vacation photos, I am so very happy. Now, I am part of the memory. I am not just behind the camera. I am in the action!

Now my kids will have photos of me. Photos of mommy smiling. Confident. Joking around. Enjoying life. Playing with them. Goofing off for the camera. Relaxing. Happy.

We will all have fun memories captured of a family trip that we all went on together - that we all enjoyed. Images of their mother are captured forever, not only in photos, but also in their hearts.





















For more Wordless Wednesday entries click HERE!

Or if you prefer Wordful Wednesdays, click HERE!

Realistic, Attainable and Measurable

Yet another frustrating weigh-in last night. I am up a pound...well, actually, not "A" pound, but, "THE" pound. Yep. That pesky little bugger that I have been gaining and loosing for 10 weeks now!

Full stop.

Let's switch up our thinking, and look at this from another angle:



Hmmmm...... how about looking at it from this angle?





OK - that was not very pretty, but it did get me thinking of this whole weight loss journey a bit differently.

Those photos above? Well, those jeans are the same size I wore back in 2000. In fact, they are the smallest size I have worn since getting engaged - forget the whole multiple pregnancy excuse! ENGAGED!!!

(ok, my tummy is bigger, and the pants fit me a bit differently, but these pants were bought at a "normal" store, in a normal size, with no tears of frustration or feelings of just buying something cause it fits!)

So, perhaps I should not focus on the number on the scale, but on how my body is changing. I am leaner, stronger, fitter and I carry myself with a feeling of confidence that has been missing for a long, long time.

On Sunday I ran the furthest I have EVER run (15.8km) AND I purchased size 12 jeans.

Ya, the scale may be bouncing around the 166 mark - but I am not over eating, binge eating and I am trying to choose healthy foods. I am running 3 or 4 times a week, playing soccer, working full time AND being a full time SAHM. And my weight is not ballooning. It is not inching or catapulting up.

On Thursday our running clinic had a nutritionist as a guest speaker. She is a runner, and could easily relate to our running agendas, and she works with obese children. So, I really felt that she could relate to my struggles.

After a brief conversation she gave me a big hug and said, " Look at you! You look great! You are about to go for a 6k run! You have come a long way. But you are at a cross roads. It is very difficult to properly fuel your body to prepare and train for a half marathon while totally focused on losing weight. You need to decide if your goal is to reach your goal weight in the next 2 months or is it to successfully train, and complete a half? Maybe your new short term goal is to eat healthy and properly, and train - and then, after the race you focus on loosing the last little bit of excess weight. You may be pleasantly surprised how flipping your focus to be properly fueling your training and running your race to the best of your ability will allow your to meet your weight loss goals...but it will take more time. The key should be on refueling, repairing muscle and keeping healthy. Cutting calories and sacrificing your ability to train effectively will lead to huge disappointment. You need to set your goals."

Goals. My goals.

Well, for almost 10 months my goal has been to loose weight. Period. PERIOD. Perhaps I am suffering from tunnel vision?

I really want to train and succeed at completing a half marathon. Can you imagine the feeling I will have crossing that finish line - exactly one year from the time I could not run around the soccer pitch or run up two flights of stairs?

I have come a long way. Ten months ago, I could not even fathom running 1km let alone 22.5km!

OK. So, I need to set new goals. They need to be realistic, attainable and measurable.

What a coincidence, the weekly challenge at Amy's 15 Week challenge is all about goal setting and rewarding yourself for short term and long term goals.

Here goes:


Short term goals and associated rewards:
1. Run 3 times a week while on vacation (getting in each of my LSD Sunday runs as per my training program. REWARD - A new, cute running outfit!


2. Journal everything I eat while on vacation - The good, the bad, and the ugly. REWARD - A new sleek black coat I have been eyeing for a few weeks.

3.Enjoy my vacation and get to at least 1 WW meeting in the 3 weeks. REWARD - A pair of AMAZING red shoes I saw at Winners!

Long term goals and associated rewards:
1. Run the half marathon in September - and cross the finish line with a smile, or simply beaming with pride. REWARD - a day at the spa.

2. By Christmas day be 160 pounds. REWARD - Treat myself to a boxing day shopping spree.

Well, I think those are all realistic, attainable and measurable!

Your encouragement, support and well, prayers, are all appreciated.

I am not in a race to lose weight, I am building, defining and reconfirming who I am and what I want out of life, but embarking on a healthy lifestyle and a commitment to me.

Did you have a great day too?

It is always important to start your summer vacation off right. Our first day of summer vacation plans had been in the works for a few days. The boys had decided that to truly celebrate the end of the school year they wanted to take a bus adventure. All year they took yellow school buses to school, passing the red city buses.

So, on Friday, with a huge bag packed we set off on our adventure.

We started at Baseline Station, where we bought Mommy $4 worth of tickets (all three kids were free!). Then we waited for the #95. Oh, the excitement was mounting!

The bus pulled up and our squeals of delight brought smiles and chuckles from even the most hardened public commuter!

It was all so exciting! With transfer in hand, the bus pulled out of the station. You cannot believe the excitement a little boy has when a bus pulls off the main road and goes onto the transit way - Little Anderson was looking out the window and then he started to shake, "Mommy, Mommy, look it, we are going onto the big bussie roads! Only RED BUSSIES can go on these roads Mommy!"

We arrived at Bayview station, and excited the bus. Have you ever tried to get off a crowded bus with a 5,4 and 2.5 year old??? Let's just say, it is a bit challenging, to say the least - especially when you throw in a 20 pound picnic/supply bag!

We walked from the bus stop to the O-Train platform. Here in Ottawa we have a bus system and then a new fast train system - well, I would not call it a system, it is actually one line! None, the less, we were off for stage 2 of our public transportation adventure!

We got onto the train. It was basically empty, but apparently, great care must be taken when choosing the perfect seat!

And then we were off. All three kids LOVED it. When we went through a tunnel, you would have thought we were on a big amusement ride at Disneyland!

About 10 minutes later we pulled into the station. Just for fun we exited the train, then made our way to another train car. We all switched seats, so those who had rode backwards, were now forward and those originally forward, were now seated going backwards! Fair, is fair, you know!

And off we went!

As we pulled back into the Bayview station, I asked the conductor if my transfer was still valid. Yep. I had another 45 minutes. So, I hustled the kids back up to the bus station and we hopped onto the first bus heading downtown.

We arrived downtown. We were making our way towards, what I thought would be an ideal picnic spot. Instead, we stumbled upon a promotional concert for the upcoming Jazz Festival. So, we grabbed chairs, broke out our sandwiches, fishie crackers and apples, and enjoyed a wonderful free concert.

We then hiked (yep, hiked, since I took a wrong turn) to a local establishment. My work was having a summer BBQ lunch and my boss had encouraged me to stop in. So, my plan was to drag all three kids! Little did I know that the excitement, just would not stop!

As we made our way to the restaurant, a fire truck sped past. Then, imagine our surprise when we discovered the fire truck stopped right in front of where we were going. (Apparently the BBQ set off the fire alarms!)

Well, the kids were in heaven! I could not have planned it better. And you know firemen, they are soooooo cute, I mean friendly. They let the kids look at the truck and chatted with them, and even let them stand on the back!

Anderson, came over and hugged my leg and exclaimed, "Mommy, I think this is the best day ever!"

I assured him, it was not over yet!

We joined my work gathering, and the kids were great! They were friendly, well behaved, and kind of cute in the mix with all my co-workers!

After hotdogs, pop and cookies we made our way to Chapters. This is a huge book chain that has a kids section that features a Thomas the Tank Engine play area. The kids played, I read, sipped a coffee and we all had a great time.

Then we walked up to Sparks street. Cannot miss Ottawa Ribfest! We all voted on which vendor smelled the most tastey, had the most trophies and which had the best decorations. We found our winner and waited in line. I bought a full rack of ribs with all the fixings - oh ya! Dinner would be SWEEEET!

We walked to the ice cream store. All chose our favorites, and then headed back to catch a bus home.

We climbed on board a packed train. I looked at all the weary, tired, annoyed commuters - all heading home. I lovingly looked down at my three, exhausted, but very happy (and sticky) children and smiled. This is what summer time is about. Fun and adventure.

These smiling faces sum it all up!

DJ stuck up a conversation with a fellow commuter, and he detailed his day. The love, happiness and excitement in his voice was amazing! My heart swelled when he ended his conversation with, " So, I had a great day, it was the best day ever in my life, how about you? Did you have a great day too?"

I am tired

I am tired.

I am tired of of my new hours at work.

I am tired of the being sympathetic to other working parents, who claim to be so tired.

I am tired of not falling asleep in the arms of the man I love.

I am tired of little, coughing, scratchy, kicking, bodies climbing into my bed at 1am and waking me up an hour before I have to get up.

I am tired of my house being a mess. Ok, let's be honest, I am tired of my house being a disaster.

I am tired of washing dishes.

I am tired of doing laundry.

I am tired of stepping over things.

I am tired of three children trying to gravely injure each other by wrestling, hitting, biting, and pushing.

I am tired of listening to three whiny voices at lunch time and then again at dinner time.

I am tired of the toy room looking like a tornado hit it.

I am tired of beating myself up for BLTs (Bites, Licks and Tastes).

I am tired of loosing and gaining the same friggin' pound, over and over again.

I am tired of all junk food in a 7km radius of my location calling my name - screaming my name!

I am tired of feeling like I have no energy to blog or comment on blogs.

I am tired of not being the type of mom I really am, when I am not tired.

I am tired of worrying if my hubby will still have a job at the end of the day.

I am tired of people thinking I have everything under control. I do not.

I am tired of feeling out of control.

I am tired of being tired.

WW - Put me in coach, I wanna play!

What is Wordless Wednesday without a few words??!!!?!?!?!?!?

Last night was my first league game of the summer season.

Nothing could wipe the smile off my face!

Last year I almost quit the sport I love - but after an off-season of eating properly, taking care of myself and getting fit - I am ready to have fun again!

Last night was very rewarding, inspiring and motivating.
I have lost 81 pounds so far - only 19 pounds more to go!
I can do this. I will do this. I want to do this.
Yep, I am a contender in this weight loss game - and I am going to win!!!!

Put me in coach, I wanna play!

Oh! Ya, an extra bonus is that we won our soccer game last night!!!

Gunna give it a TRI

Tomorrow is the BIG day!

My first EVER triathlon!

OK - let's take a moment and think about this!

On August 17, 2009, I went to my doctor and complained that my weight was out of control. I told him I had just had the WORST summer soccer season of my life and just walking up two flights of stairs was starting to become a struggle.

Now, on May 16, 2009, I am going to attempt a triathlon. The course is 100m swim, 11.5km bike and 2km run. It is actually called a "Try a Tri". I am so excited! What a complete turn around! I am now fit, active and ready to celebrate my 82 pound weight loss by pushing myself and proving to myself that I AM WORTH IT! I am nervous, anxious and a bit scared...but hey, that's what it is all about!

Wish me luck!!!

Everyday

Dear Mom,
For me, everyday is mother's day. Why? Because every single day I am thankful that you are my mother. Everyday I turn to you for support, advise and help: everyday you offer me endless support, advise and help. Not a day goes by that I do not admire, love and respect you. Not a day goes by that I do not hope to make you just a little more proud of me, as a daughter, as a mother and as a person. Every single day I ask myself how you would handle certain parenting challenges, and every day I model my parenting after how you have parented (and are parenting) me. Everyday I appreciate and cherish the wonderful mother-daughter relationship we have together. Yes, everyday is mother's day.

Dear Marlene,
Thank you for being such a great mom. Thank you for being you: caring, empathetic, loving, selfless, supportive and ever-giving. Thank you for raising a wonderful son who shares those qualities. Thank you for your love and support. You welcomed me into your family with open arms. Thank you for your friendship. I hope and pray I can be as good of a mom to my children, as you are to yours.

Dear David,
Happy mother's day to you! Yes, mother's day! It is because of you that I am a mother, so, THANK YOU! I had always wanted to have children, always knew I would have children, but never imagined it could be as wonderful as it is, and I know that is because you are the father of our children. You love, support, comfort and encourage me and it is because of you that I can be the mother that I am to our children. I love and respect you more each and everyday. Not a day goes by that I am not thankful that we met, fell in love, married, and started a family. You are a wonderful father and together, we make an amazing parenting team. Thank you for everything. BEAR!

To all my wonderful readers - I hope you had a wonderful and very special mother's day...I know I sure did!!!!

Between

Between.
Yep.
Me.

I am between a rock and a hard place.

I am struggling.
Trying to find balance.


Balance.
Work.
Family.
Play.
Balance.



I am between a rock and a hard place.


Have you noticed how lame my posts have been? I have been tired. Over worked.


My long time readers know all about my job. It WAS the perfect balance for me. Yes, my 4am to 8am crazy hours made for a long day - but it all boiled down to a fairly interesting job, no childcare costs and most importantly, the ability for me to have a "real" job AND be a stay at home mom.


While I was pregnant with DJ, I was laid off from a company in the hi-tech industry. I never looked back. I could not fathom going back to the daily grind of the hi-tech, stressful, chaotic life I led pre-kids. I was "saved" when I had Anderson while still on maternity leave! And decided that childcare costs for two kids less than a year apart was crazy. So, never went back to work.


Then, when Ander was 2 I started getting the itch...the itch for more disposable income, the itch to exercise my professional skills, you know, the itch.


This amazing job basically fell into my lap. A good friend I met at playgroup found out about a crazy job that was part time from 4am to 8am. Not only did it work in terms of allowing me forgo any need of childcare - but it married my university education with my work experience. I have a degree in Canadian Studies with a focus on inter-governmental affairs - and I have a diploma (and 16 years experience) in marketing-communications. Oh ya baby! It was a great opportunity! I interviewed, landed the job and started almost immediately. That was 3 years ago.

It was a great gig - while it lasted! I basically got paid to watch the national news! Working for the Canadian federal government, I am part of a media team that monitors, analyzes and reports on news coverage. Our main "client" is actually the Prime Minister of Canada and his staff! They have a morning briefing and our media report is the bulk of that meeting.


OK, jump ahead to today. I got a new boss in January. Nice guy. But since he took control, my job has changed. The workload has exploded. For example, in the years past we monitored 8 stations and usually categorized 15-20 daily clips. Now, we have 13 stations and we do over 100 clips

It is completely heads down from 4am to 630am...no, excuse me, 3am to 630am. Yep. I have been asked to work at 3am. Not only that, but I have also been asked to work on the weekend. First, it was a flexible shift - anytime I wanted on the weekend - now, my work needs to be done by 10am Saturday - meaning I have to complete 5 hours of work between 8pm Friday and 10 am Saturday - no longer very flexible, now, is it???!!!!

My new boss cannot seem to say no.

Our workload is crazy.

Then he sends an email asking for a huge change int he report for the Monday morning submission. He indicates in his Sunday evening email that if overtime is needed, that is OK. Hmmmmm...let's think about this - email sent at 8:43pm, I arrive at work at 3am...report due at 630am...ya, um, excuse me...when could I squeeze in some overtime to help get the work load completed? Ya! Doesn't work!

OK - The increased workload, the new boss with no real idea of what and how we do our job, a very demanding "client" and a huge adjustment to my hours all constitute my "rock".

The hard place?

Well, that is Nortel.

My hubby works at Nortel. Nortel is in trouble. No one knows what is happening and no job is secure. This once hi-tech giant has gone into bankruptcy protection and it looks very grim. We have no idea how much longer David will have a job or an income. Since the company is in protection, no severance will be granted.

This is extremely stressful for everyone. But, my heart goes out to hubby - having to go in every day, remain focused, committed and hard working - with all the uncertainty clouding his workplace.

He tries to keep positive. He tries to let things not impact him - h has a healthy outlook that what will happen, will happen. But, I can see the stress eating at him.

Then, I keep getting offered more work hours. I am not ready for full time - I love having my days at home with the kids. I do not want to have to worry about childcare - I want to care for my children. But, if David should loose his job - then I would have a secure full time job. (well, at least secure till my next contract renewal!) Plus, my director has gone to bat for me before - he is loyal to those who demonstrate commitment to the team and good work. He secured me a contract that allowed me a full year maternity leave with benefits. I feel like if I say no to extra hours and longer hours, that he may "loose that faith in me". He is hard-nose like that. People try to never cross him - he can make your life hell!

So, I am struggling. I am struggling because I am getting even less sleep than before. I am struggling because my workload had multiplied, I am worried about my hubby's job, mental state and peace of mind.

I am struggling with where I want to be in 2-5 years in terms of my professional work - and if declining extra hours and responsibilities will negatively impact my desires and future opportnities.

For me, working full time would mean we would need childcare for Madigan every morning - and then when school is out - for all three - just in the morning. I would have the afternoons to spend with them - and sooner than I realize, they will all be in school full days. It would not be that hard to do...and we could find very affordable options that would capitalize on our new income source and that would help us financially. But I would be working fulltime...

I really feel like I am between a rock and hard place right now.

And that explains my lack of quality posts - Ummm, have I ever posted quality posts???!!!!!

OK - whine and b*tchfest is over. Tomorrow we will be back to our regular bloggy-self!

Oh! I have so much to share with you!!!! Funny stories about the kids, fitness news, weight loss journey tidbits - Let me tell you, the Fringe is never boring...just my posts of late!!!!

Gift of Life

If you are a regular visitor to The Fringe, you undoubtedly have been monitoring my birthday gift list. (I'm still waiting for the packages to start arriving...still waiting...)


Today, in all seriousness I am asking for one gift from each of you. The gift of life. I am encouraging each and everyone of you to sign your organ donor cards, register on appropriate data bases and inform your family that if, heaven forbid, anything should happen to you, that you would like to donate your internal organs to someone who desperately needs the gift of life.

By now you have probably heard of the tragic death of Natasha Richardson. This is so very sad. My heart goes out to her family - especially her loving husband and young sons.

Yesterday the media had so many conflicting stories and rumors. It was very confusing. Being a head-injury survivor I was very interested in the story and started looking for news on the internet.

I read an article that indicated that Ms. Richardson had been air-transported from a hospital in Montreal to a hospital in New York. I thought perhaps that Lenox Hill hospital was a medical facility hat specialized in brain-injuries. But the information I found basically classified the hospital as having a speciality in cardiac care.

That got me thinking.

Perhaps they moved her to NY so that she could be closer to family. I began to wonder why that hospital. And here is what I am hoping: I hope that she had made the decision to be an organ donor and that she had communicated her wishes to her family. If her head injury was severe then, perhaps, she was being transported closer to home, and that if she did pass away, she would be closer to family and also able to give the gift of life to someone else.

I have no idea of what Natasha Richmond's wishes were in terms of organ donation. Yes, I am sad for her and her family - a tragic loss for certain - but by all accounts she was a healthy, generous, caring being. I hope and pray that the most selfless decision was communicated and acted upon. Based on my personal knowledge and experience of a closed-head trauma - Ms. Richardson would have made an idea organ transplant donor. My heart aches that she suffered this injury. But the lives she could save...oh what a precious gift that would be...

Sadly, perhaps through her death, we can all become a bit more educated in brain-injuries, the importance of wearing helmets and protective gear, and that the gift of life is the ultimate gift we can give, once we are gone from this earth.

The fluke accident that happened to Natasha Richardson, could happen at any time to any of us. You just never know...that is the scary part.

I hope that none of us have to face the painstaking decision that Ms. Richardson's family had to make to turn off the respirator. I hope none of us ever need face such a terrible hardship. But I also pray that Ms. Richardson's family, and any of us who may one day face this unspeakable burden, that we all consider, and hopefully commit to helping to save someone else, when we, or someone we love are in a similar position.

Here are a few additional resources and information sources on organ donation:

The Organ Donation and Transplant Association of Canada
Organ and Tissue Donation (USA)
Gift of Life

For my birthday, I would like my gift to be informing my family and friends of my intentions. I would like to be an organ donor. I want to give the gift of life, when mine has ended. Do you?

When did David know I was the one?

The photos I posted the other day were taken in June of 2002. I love those photos - no matter how embarrassing or hilarious they are to others. To me, they represent love, and I think of that evening back in June every Valentine's day!

I was looking forward to our dinner out. David, my fiance, and I were meeting up with one of my dear bride's maids and her boyfriend for dinner. It did not seem odd that they had agreed to go to an expensive fish restaurant - even though Cara hates fish! It did not seem odd that a group of kids were hiding behind the bushes and giggling. It did not seem odd when David stopped just before Cara's apartment and turned me around and planted a wonderful kiss. Nope, it all seemed perfectly normal.

Till I knocked on the apartment door.

Cara certainly was not dressed appropriately for the restaurant, for starters.

And secondly, her apartment was over crowded with all our mutual soccer friends.

A surprise bachelorette party for yours truly.

Ok. So that explains the huge pen*s and my get up! And, yes, the drinking. But how does that relate back to Valentine's day or true love.

Like all totally awesome bachelorette parties, mine involved a few drinking games. One in particular is dear to my heart.

Cara had cornered David at work and drilled him with a million questions. She asked him tons of questions about his likes, dislikes, our relationship, his childhood - no topic was off limits.

From that interrogation she compiled a long list of questions to ask me. The idea was to see how much I knew of my true love...and how much I did not!

If I got the answer wrong, I had to take a shot - or at least what my friend Lynn thought was a shot - which was more like 3-5 ounces of really terrible "girlie" liquor!

At the beginning I did pretty well. More right than wrong...then I was asked, " What was the name of David's first dog?"

CRAP. CRAPPITY CRAP.... Princess? Queenie? I knew it was something "royal".....

DRINK UP! The right answer is Duchess!

For a bunch of questions I was so close, but yet so far...what a slippery slope...soon I was really feeling the effects of my wrong answers. Like my father always says, close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades!

Oh, I got David's favorite colour, his favorite restaurant, what we did on our first and third date right, there were some doozies...some challenging, some easy, then came the big question:

When did David know you were the one?

Hmmmmmmm.....When did David know I was the one? hmmmmm...when???

I knew for me, it was after our FIRST date that I gushed to my girlfriends I just knew he was the one....could he have known that early???

No. Probably not. OH! Could it have been at this time? That would make sense...

Yep. That had to be it...so, I confirmed, that was my final answer.

I held my breath...

Cara yelped a big, "Nope - it was when your ski broke, or something like that..." and Lynn poured me another drink to chug!

I accepted defeat, and slugged back my "punishment" and started to reminisce about the night my ski broke... even in my drunken state, I could remember it perfectly!

David knew I was the one when one cold February night we went downhill skiing. I was not a skier - had not been for years. So, I dusted off my 10 year old skis I had lugged to Ottawa when I first moved to the area, but had never used. And, hoped for the best. David had suggested I rent newer skis - but I insisted mine were perfectly fine.

I had great fun. I stayed mostly on the smaller hills and slowly started to get the hang of it. So midway through the evening, the bunch of us decided to go to a more challenging hill.

During the chairlift ride David and I held hands. I was loving it all!

We did the top half of the slope. Met up, and then continued down the hill. All was going great.

I zipped passed David and then he zipped past me.

David finished the run before me and waited at the chairlift line.

And waited.

And waited.

He got a bit nervous, and started to make his way back to the ski run. He turned the bend, and little did he know that the next 5 minutes would change his life forever!

There I was, walking down the hill, carrying my skis!! And boy, was I giggling!

When we met up - I burst out laughing and gave him a big hug. He looked so concerned and worried.

You see, my ancient binding had exploded...yep, exploded.

I was in the middle of making a turn when I heard a strange noise and then I saw my ski take off down the hill...without me!

I went tumbling down the hill!

After getting up, dusting myself off, I could not stop giggling...I picked up all my equipment (I would later learn that it is called a yard sale wipe out when you loose your equipment all over the hill in a spill!)

With skis in hand, I walked down the rest of the hill. Laughing.

All I could think about was, "Wow, this is sure going to impress David! NOT! Hope he asks me out again, but I will have to buy new skis!"

Once he confirmed I was ok. He asked if I wanted to go home - I quickly replied, "No way - let's stay, you do a few more runs and I will wait in the chalet. Go have fun, but promise me you will help me buy a new pair of skis!"

David gave me a hug, and said, "Sure, I am so glad you like skiing..." he hugged me again, kissed me and told me, "love you lots".

I never imagined that at that moment, he was realizing that I was the one. The ONE for him.

All I knew was no matter what we did, no matter what, I always had fun with David. Even in the midst of huge wipe outs, I super enjoyed being with this man. Little did I know, that during our night of skiing, David was coming to the same realizations about me!

I waited in the chalet and watched the man of my dreams ski a few more runs. I was happy. Truly happy... and I still am today!!!!

Now, every Valentine's day, I give David a big hug and innocently ask, "Remember when my ski broke?"

And David replies with a grin, "I certainly do!"

Then, I giggle and say, "Remember my giant pen*s?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?"

(I will not post his routine response...just in case my mother or mother-in-law are reading!!!)

Happy belated Valentine's day everyone - I hope you had a wonderfully happy day with your loved one. Me, I went skiing!!!!

With the man I love with all my being...

... and with two of the three products of this mutual love!

IT ROCKED!

and I was happy!

PS - sorry for the delay - my access to Blogger is a bit wonky!

Diagnosed OXYMORON

I am an OXYMORON.


I am a JUMBO SHRIMP!

(Didn't the great Paul Simon write a song about that? Oh, wait - that was a rock and an island! Well, maybe I am both of those too?!?!?!?)

I have self-diagnosed myself with a very serious newly named (by yours truly) medical condition called the JUMBO SHRIMP SYNDROME.

Now that I have a diagnosis, I am dealing with this condition a lot better. I am in some sort of remission.

For the last few weeks I have been a bit down, not as motivated as before, and a bit in a rut. I was constantly fighting the urge to hang up my running shoes. Look over at my side bar and you will even see a little blimp in my weight loss - for the first time since starting this process, I gained...a WHOLE half a pound. Unfortunately, with Jumbo Shrimp Syndrome, even a small, tiny, insignificant, water-retention, period-about-to-start, gain, can cause a spiral into the death grip of this illness.

Worst of all, I was hearing voices. Chocolate chip cookies that were stashed in the back of the pantry were calling my name; the chip aisle of the grocery store sent off a deafening roar of, " Come on over Laura, the snacking is good over here!" And extra helpings were begging me to put them out of their misery and finish them off.

And when I did exercise or dress in some of my new clothes (smallest sizes since 2003!) I was feeling sexy and skinny! Oh yes, I did. So much so, I went through the bottom drawer of my dresser - yes, the bottom drawer - the one with the lingerie and non-granny underwear.

Oh ya, baby! Alternating with the negative symptoms mentioned above, I started feeling great about myself. I started to really appreciate the change in my body. I started to like my new, healthy curves. I started feeling good about myself. I held my head up high as I exercised, I did not feel out of place at the gym, I did not compare my tickle-fight stance to that of a beached whale. I started to wear sexy underwear on weekdays and even slipped on a lacy number with the hope it would be torn off me (it was!). I started to think I was skinny.

These positive feelings of pride, self-worth and accomplishment would come crashing down with one look in the mirror. While I felt all skinny and great, one look in the mirror, and I would see a happy, yet, still over-weight gal. Insecurity and disappointment would quickly set in. And that would accentuate the negative symptoms of my condition. The happiness would vanish and I was left feeling fat, depressed and upset. When I really opened my eyes and looked at myself, I saw a Jumbo Shrimp.

Basically, inside, I felt all skinny and great, but the reflection in the mirror or the size on the clothing tag, or the annoying high pitch voice of the Wii fit/Madigan, would remind me that yes, I am still considered OBESE.

With tears in my eyes, I would here my inner voice say, "You're an OX, you MORON!"

An ox, you moron... an OXYMORON.

I have become a Jumbo Shrimp.

So, how does a treat Jumbo Shrimp Syndrome?

1. Focus on accomplishments thus far - I have lost 64.5 pounds - that is AMAZING. I need to take pride in that accomplishment.
2. Keep motivated - this is a process - I need to look at my weight loss as a journey and not dwell on a single step within this journey.
3. Journal - I admit it, my journalling has become a bit laxed, I need to document EVERYTHING I eat and drink. I need to be accountable.
4. Celebrate and anticipate - I need to celebrate my accomplishments (almost 65 pounds lost, in the smallest size of pants in years, ate a healthy, good choice breakfast...) and also anticipate new milestones (will soon run my first road race in 7 years, obtaining a 75 pound weight loss total is totally within reach, saying no to those voices each and every time they scream out to me...)
5. Realize this is not an over-night fix, but a new lifestyle. There will be ups and downs and plateaus...and breaking through and making one good decision at a time is the answer.

Yes, I am an OXYMORON and I suffer from Jumbo Shrimp Syndrome, but I will survive, thrive and be happy.

Fooled You All!

As I type this, my lucky parents are cruising the Mediterranean. They live about 35 minutes away from us and asked if we would mind sharing house sitting duties with their neighbours. Basically the neighbours would look over at the house on a daily basis and we would go in two or three times to water the plants and collect the mail. Not a problem. So, this morning after church we headed out.

About 8 minutes away from their house my hubby asks, "You remembered the keys, right?"

"Ah, FRIG, SHOOT! Nope!"

Silence.

"I'm an idiot...sorry....but, hey you are a bigger idiot!

"Me? Why?"

"Cause you married me! That makes you a bigger idiot than me!"

"Ah, no...I was fooled and did not know what I was getting into!"

"Well, then, you are fool & an idiot who just drove 55km and have no keys to get into the house, and you are stuck with an idiot wife!"

"You're right, I guess I am an idiot fool fooled into love with you! My fault!"

-----

Along with my hubby, here are a few other people I have recently fooled!

Mrs. Schmitty, over at It's A Schimitty Life thinks I am deserving of this award:

I also fooled Diane over at Forgetfulone at thinking I deserved this award:

Hee hee...do I ever have them fooled!!!! Both awards are handed out to blogs that show great attitude and gratitude. I am honoured to accept these super awesome, cool awards, and to pass them both off to the following bloggers, who are, in fact, the real deal! They all ROCK! Go check them out!

Tara over at If Mom Says OK.

Mrs. Incredible at That's Life 2.0.

Meredith at Pregnantly Plump.

Lainey-Painey at Life is Just so Daily.

Melissa at Hope Floats.

Kat over at Seeking Sanity.

Miss Sniz

Barry over at Barrie Summary.

Mighty Morphin' Mama

I'm Being Held Hostage at In the Gutter

And any of my other wonderful readers who would like to participate - ya, you! Here is what you gotta do to pay it forward:

1. Put one of the logos on your blog or post.
2. Nominate at least 10 blogs with a great attitude / gratitude.
3. Link the nominees within your post.
4. Let them know you have given the award by leaving them a comment on their blog.
5. Share the love and link this post and to the person from whom you received this award.

Seriously...I am super duper appreciative and humbled by these two awards...and what means even more to me is that they come from two bloggy friends I adore. I. ADORE.

A tsunami of emotion

I have not felt much like blogging lately.

At first I thought it was because a silly incident that happened at Christmas... but then thought back to this week, four years ago. And I immediately realized why my heart was heavy, my words few, my mood sour and my eyes teary.

Four years ago 11 Indian Ocean countries were hit by a catastrophic tsunami. So many lives were lost. Such destruction, lost and peril. My heart goes out to everyone impacted by that powerful, destructive force of nature.

In the hours after the tsunami hit, I too was hit by my own personal tsunami. A tsunami of emotion.

Anderson was only a few weeks old. I had taken to sleeping in his nursery for night feedings. It is amazing how comfortable and wonderful I felt, nestled in with my second baby. I was happy.

Unlike with DJ, breast feeding came naturally. Ander and I quickly became pros at a skill that eluded me with DJ. For that, I was so happy and content.

Life was easy. I slept when baby Anderson slept, woke with him, fed him, changed him, cradled him. Repeat. David and my parents took care of everything else.

During one late night feeding I turned on the radio. Coverage of the tsunami was in full swing.

I sat, staring at the radio. Stunned at what I was hearing. My heart breaking for everyone involved or touched by this disaster.

I looked down at my little boy. So sweet. So innocent. I could not help but smile through my tears. I thanked God my family was safe. I hugged my little boy and drifted off to sleep with him at my breast.

Little did I know that I would soon be hit by my own tsunami. A tidal wave of emotion that would leave me crippled, injured and scared forever.

A few hours later Anderson awoke again, looking for boobie and comfort.

While I fed him I listened to the radio. The CBC was now speaking to survivors and the stories were heart wrenching. Every single one of them.

One in particular tore my heart. It was an interview with a woman from Australia. She had been on the beach with her 3 month old baby and her 30 month old son when the wave hit. She frantically struggled to hold onto her two young children. She spoke of how strangers attempted to grab her and her children - to rescue them. But, the tide was too strong and they were being pulled out further and further. She fought hard - trying to keep her babies above water.

She soon realized that without the ability to tread water, she and her babies would perish.

She had to make a choice.

Both her arms were wrapped around her children. She was frantic.

She had to make a choice.

At this point in the interview, the traumatized mother was sobbing and frantic. The interviewer was sobbing. I was sobbing.

I turned off the radio.

I looked into my sweet baby's face and drifted off to sleep.

Just 19 days earlier, I had become a mother for the second time. I now had newborn and a 12 month old. I was now responsible for two of God's children. Two. Like that Australian mother in Thailand. That mother who in split second, had to make a choice.

My exhausted body slept, but my dreams haunted me.

What if I had to make a choice? How could I make a choice. Would I make a choice? What would be my choice? What if I had to make a choice?

My dreams turned into nightmares of house fires and only having the ability to save one of my precious children. What would I choose to do? My dreams turned to nightmares of car accidents, and only having the ability of saving one of my sweet babies. My dreams turned to nightmares of illnesses and plagues - and me having to make a choice.

The next morning, my waking hours became my worse nightmares.

I became crippled with fear, anxiety and worry. I could not stop thinking of that woman from Australia, who had to make a choice.

I was hit by a tsunami of emotion. I became crippled by indecisiveness. Smothered with fear. Overwhelmed with anxiety.

At first I could hide it from everyone.

A few deep breaths before driving the car. A shake of my head to expel the demons would work.

Then, I began to unravel. I could not sleep. I could not focus. I could not cope.

I began to question my ability to be a good parent. I started to plan escape routes. I took to analyzing every day events for dangers. Risk was every where. At any moment, I might be called to make a choice. To make a decision. The decision.

Crippled by indecisiveness. Smothered with fear. Overwhelmed with anxiety.

Once when I was driving to playgroup I came to a stoplight. I stopped and waited for the light to change.

Before the light could change from red to green I became crippled by indecisiveness. Smothered with fear. Overwhelmed with anxiety.

The light turned green. I stared at the steering wheel. Unable to put my foot on the gas. The car behind me honked. I turned around. It was a burgundy Malibu. While turned, I looked down at my babies in the back seat. Secure in their car seats. I turned to face the front, hands gripping the steering wheel. What if. What if I did drive through that intersection and a car came through the intersection at the same time and was about to hit us. How could I save both my children? How could I angle our vehicle so that I took the brunt of the impact. What if only one of my babies would survive? What if I had to choose? What if I had to decide?

Crippled by indecisiveness. Smothered with fear. Overwhelmed with anxiety.

The turned red. I was safe. Then it turned green again.

I thank God for the police car that just happened to pull up beside me. I am certain the police officer could tell something was not right.

Cars honked. The light turned red again. I was safe.

The police officer got out of her car. Motioned for me to roll down my window.

Tears streaming down my face, all I mumbled was, " I cannot decide. I cannot choose. Please help me."

Crippled by indecisiveness. Smothered with fear. Overwhelmed with anxiety.

The police officer guided my out of my car. Walked me to a nearby plaza parking lot.

We called my husband.

I calmed down. To this day, I do not really remember what happened next. But my husband comforted me. He assured me. He loved me. He encouraged me.

Slowly, I drove home.

Slowly, I took control.

Slowly, the tides of emotion starting to reverse.

With love and support from family and friends, and medical help I survived a tsunami that is also called post partum anxiety. And while, the love and support I received from family and friends - along with medical help - helped me to deal, cope and conquer my demons, four years later I still struggle to understand the power and destruction a tsunami can pack.

My heart goes out to everyone impacted by the actual tsunami that hit Thailand and surrounding areas. By no means does this post make light of that situation. But at the same time, during this time of remembrance, I also think of all new parents who may be facing their own personal tsunami. I pray and hope they too can survive, like I did.

Reverse Psychology

Reverse Psychology works every time!

Did I mention something big, horrible and ugly is going on at work - you know, the work I love...well, I still love my job, but I am feeling a bit overwhelmed, under appreciated and disappointed...I will not post much about the situation until after I talk to my union rep tomorrow morning for the final numbers and payment options.

It is no wonder I am not in a good mood.

Then my exercise partner cancels out workout for tonight - something about Christmas in a week and no where close to being ready.

So, I dug deep and decided to brave the elements and go running on my own.

Me: Do you think jumping from 4.1km to 5km is too big of a jump? I am still at run for 4 min and walk a min.

Hubby: No, you could do it.

Me: What is a good 5km route around here?

Hubby: Go out and Road A to Road B, turn right and follow to Road C. Then keep going to Road D all the way past the shopping centre to Road E and then all the way to Road F, turn right and then left onto Road G and follow back to Road A.

Me: All the way to the shopping centre and back around?

Hubby Yep.

Me: F*ck, I cannot do that!

So, off I went, totally thinking I would do my 4.1 km route...so, I went Road A to Road G then instead of turning onto my regular route, I headed towards road F, all the way to Road E, past the shopping centre, up to Road D and around to Road C, then I turned left onto Road B and found myself on Road A, heading home.

Not only did I do the 5km route - but I did not walk once!!!

Yep, amazing what a bad day, adrenaline and a bit of reverse psychology can do to up your work out!

Post Cards, Whistling and Cranapples

Today, I remember the brave men and women who have served this great country, protected our freedom and who fought for our rights. Today, I remember all those who have given the greatest sacrifice ever imaginable. Today, I remember all those currently serving. Today, I remember.

Today, I remember post cards, whistling, and cranapples.

Today, I remember my Papa.

Oh, how I miss my Papa. How I wish he could have seen me grow into the woman I am today. How I wish he could have seen me marry the man of my dreams. How I wish he could have held my children as newborns and known them, guided them and loved them.

Today, I remember old post cards.

Today, I remember treasure hunting with Papa to find old post cards. During my summer visits we visited thrift shops, yard sales, flea markets and collection shows. Papa would scour each card. Gently caress the photo side, slowly turn it over, inspect the stamp, date and personal message. The he would flick it with a tap and nod his head approvingly and put it aside. Our newest find.

I never really understood Papa's fascination with post cards. They were post cards from people he did not know. Strangers. They were old and sometimes in a fragile state. Why did he collect these personal glimpses into strangers' lives?

At first I thought it was because he wanted the stamps for his stamp collection. This is partially true. Once home he would re-inspect the post card, and sometimes carefully remove the stamp and add it to his collection. Then, he would place the post card into an old show box. No post card was ever discarded or thrown out.

One day, as a teenager, I asked him why he liked collecting post cards of strangers. His reply did not mean that much to me then...but it does now.

He collected them because it was a glimpse into a happy time, an adventure, a happy moment. Few people send a post card full of sadness. Most cards end with, "Wish you were here!"

Years later I would recognize the importance of those post cards to my Papa. Most of the post dates were from the days, months and years he spent as a POW during WW2. How terrible that time must have been. The terror, pain, loneliness, despair and fear he must have faced in the prisoners camp.

Those post cards he handled so gently, so lovingly, so full of respect, were a way to leave those terrors behind, and see that in that time of horror, there were glimpses of love, laughter and good times. Life had been almost normal - somewhere. Proof that during a time when he was surrounded by death, destruction and may ham, there was light, happiness and life. And I think, he wished he had been there.

Today, I remember how my Papa would always be whistling. He whistled.

He would whistle as he worked, whistle as he walked, whistle as he drove. He whistled.

He whistled so much we sometimes forgot he was whistling.

He whistled when he was happy. He whistled when he was sad. He whistled.

He whistled to secretly communicate amongst his fellow POWs. He whistled to alert to danger. He whistled to keep his sanity. He whistled to give hope, faith and friendship in a dark time in a dark place. He whistled to proclaim the time was right to put their plans of escape into action. He whistled. He survived.

I am sad that I did not understand why he whistled. I am sad I did not hold onto his whistling and embrace it, cherish it and love it like I should have. I miss his whistling.

Today, I remember throwing cranapples at the squirrels trying to get into Papa' bird feeders.

Every morning he would sit in the front window, read the newspaper, drink his coffee and curse the damn squirrels for stealing the birdseed. Then he would get up, walk out the front door - I would scamper behind him. He would pick up a rotted cranapple from the ground, take aim and peg the pesky squirrel. I would grab some ammunition and stand at ready.

Years later, I look back, and I realize the power, the meaning behind Papa protecting his much loved birds and their birdseed. As a child, the symbolism of this act was lost on me. Now, I see a strong, brave, committed man caught in a fight. I now see the complexity of protecting, fighting and guarding what is ours.

Today I remember my Papa. Today I remember all those who have served and who are serving this great country.

Today, I remember.

Do you?

Reset Button

My face is swollen. Sore. Throbbing.

My nerves are shot.

My head is pounding.

The sun is shining and my kids are in the play room watching the Cars movie and destroying the room.

I am resetting my Google Reader.

I am going to reset, and start all over tomorrow.

I am pushing the reset button.

See you all soon, when I feel better.

A Lot on My Mind

I have a lot on my mind. I have been "on program" for 7 weeks and "on product" for 42 days.

Things are going very well. For the most part. Yes, for the most part, they are going very well.

This week I lost a whopping 5 pounds. This makes my total weight loss since September 9th to be 27 pounds!

AMAZING. WONDERFUL.

But, I still have lots on my mind.

Last night at my weekly weigh-in and doctor's appointment I discussed some of the mental and emotional issues I have recently been experiencing. We discussed body image, pride, self control, realistic weight goals and how much of a mental-battle the weight loss journey can be for anyone.

Last week I struggled. You could read it on my blog, see it on my face, and sense it every time I made a meal for my family.

And what I realized, is that I will always struggle in this area. Most people do. The trick is harvesting that negative energy - those negative thoughts - and turning it into determination, pride, strength and endurance to keep committed to a healthy lifestyle.

Weight loss is a mental game.

You need to stay focused, committed and positive. There will be challenges, but with the right attitude and support system, you can make the right choices and you can conquer the mental challenges you face.

I saw a TV show one evening where a female, dressed only in her underwear, was placed in front of a line of similarly dressed women. The body sizes and weights ranged from lower than the "contestant" to higher. Her challenge was to place herself in the line.

WOW. What a social experiment. Every single time the "contestant" would miss-judge her weight and size and place herself multiple spots away from where she actually fit in the line. Every. Single. Time. EVERY SINGLE TIME without fail, she perceived herself as bigger and heavier than she really was, compared to the others.

What does that say about body image?

WOW.

I am most definitely sure that if placed in this challenge I would do the same.

Now, after loosing 27 pounds I am struggling with this body image issue on two fronts. (As if one front was not enough!)

I see myself in photos or in the mirror, and I see myself as HUGE, enormous, FAT.

I am sure I would put myself way out of order in that line of naked women! This frustrates me.

Then I remember I have already lost 27 pounds. That is amazing. Something to be proud of, for sure. I think of how much better I feel - how I have more energy, less mood swings, and how I am more active and happy. Then, I feel good. I feel great. I feel awesome. I feel pride...then I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror - and the battle begins again. Why? Because based on how I feel, I think I should look even better, skinnier. I then have to battle those mental-weight-loss-demons. Re-focus. Re-commit. Re-affirm.

The name of the game is DECISION. COMMITMENT. SUCCESS.

Yes, the numbers matter - the scale numbers, the number of healthy choices made, the amount of exercise completed, the tape measure ticks, and the calories eaten. But weight-loss is also a mental challenge - so, how you feel about yourself and how you feel mentally, physically and emotionally matter just the same, if not more.

Yes. I have a lot on my mind.

Melancholy

I am being smothered by a state of melancholy.

Late this evening David's Grandfather arrives from British Columbia. We are all very excited and looking forward to a wonderful, fun-filled visit. The boys are beside themselves with excitement.

Great Grandpa is a wonderful man - I love him dearly, and I am so happy he is healthy and active enough to travel across the country. He and my hubby have a very special relationship. It really touches my heart. Both are hard-working, practical, heart-on-your-sleeve type of guys. When I went to meet David's family I felt a wonderful, instant connection between David's Grandpa and I. Heck, I even got hooked on golf because of him and hubby!

Grandpa, Me and hubby playing golf in Qualicum Beach

The boys absolutely adore their Great Grandpa. They love calling him and are thrilled he is coming to visit. Each boy has a list a mile long of things they want to do with him - I am sure the poor man will be worn out (but extremely happy) when he get on the plane to head home!

DJ and Ander helping Great Grandpa

So why am I being smothered by a state of melancholy?

I miss my Grandparents. I miss the special relationship I had with all four of them. I wonder what they would think of my life. I wonder what type of relationship they would each have with my children.

My children are very blessed to have all 4 Grandparents, and until recently 3/8 Great Grandparents. And for that I am happy.

4 generations of David's in our family!

Funny how I can be so excited and happy about a visit -and at the same time feel sad, lonely and reminiscent.

Grama, Papa, Meme, Pepe --- I miss you all so very much.